Tales from The Forgotten
by Frisky Wallabee
Summary: The other kids don’t hate us, don’t make fun of us. They just don’t realize that we’re there. AU, slash, seldom used characters
1. Waiting on a friend

**Bumlet's POV**

There are several disgusting things in the world. _Truly_ disgusting things. That one plant in the rain forest that smells like rotten meat. Having to hear your parents have sex when they think you're asleep. Kevin Federline. But nothing compares to the locker room at Joseph Pulitzer High School.

The true floor hasn't been seen in decades, it's covered by a green, spongy layer of mold. Actually, to call it _green_ is giving it far too much credit. Green, gray, brown and black have formed an alliance to create the perfect, most repugnant color. To top it off, there's bacteria, both kinds of lice and, I'm fairly certain, several STDs running rampant. The floor is constantly wet for reasons I don't want to know.

Back in the eighties, it's told, a biology class took some samples as a joke and discovered ringworm. Ringworm. Plus, a whole manner of other unpronounceable nasties. Authorities were called in but the health inspector left with a brand new DeLorean. Our school has no idea what to do with its budget other than paying off officials to keep it operating.

If that doesn't turn you off, the smell will. Mold, mildew, sweat, testosterone, garbage and rancid milk all in a nice little hodge-podge of smelliness. The lighting is fluorescent, dim and buzzing.

That, my friends, that cesspool of filth is where we lay our scene.

Who am I? Bernardo Romero Tito Mendoza. Because of the increasingly difficulty of writing out my name (and ignoring _West Side Story_ references), I simply go by Bumlets. Where the moniker came from, I have no idea but I've been called that since second grade.

Despite the fact that I'm Argentinean in origin, I can't speak a word of Spanish. My Spanish teacher really hates that about me, which is why she still insists on giving me "native speaker" tests rather than the ones the rest of the class gets. Thus, I'm failing. I just want to go to her 'okay, my family is from Brooklyn, _not_ actual Argentina.' But I digress. My woes over my origin are not what this story is about.

I'm part of a group in school known as "the forgotten." The other kids don't hate us, don't make fun of us. They just don't realize that we're there. At good 'ol JPHS, there's a bit of a hierarchy here. Not wealth, of course, we're all poor inner-city kids. It's a ladder of popularity. The Populars are chosen by ways unbeknownst to any of us on the lower regions. Personally, I labor under the belief that God is somehow involved because, the way I see it, there's no other way to figure it out. Like David Jacobs. One day he was this quiet, Jewish kid who all but lived in the library and the next, he was knobbing at booze-fests and turning down dates from cheerleaders.

We're not a large group but, then again, we're not a large school. There's me, of course. Then Noah Allerdyce, "the stoner" who we call Pie Eater (although not having anything to do with pie; long story), Ben Lee, the reject from the track team and unsung star of the swim team who's ironically named Swifty. Itey the Guido, the most Italian boy you'd ever meet except maybe Anthony Higgins. His actual name is Giuseppe Spinelli so you see why everyone calls him Itey. Then Jake and Shawnee. Jake is Jake and Shawnee is Snoddy. One is never without the other. It's never just Jake and it's never jut Snoddy. It's always Jake and Snoddy. Jake isn't actually Jake's name, though. Long story there too.

To call us friends is a bit of an overstatement. I prefer the term 'acquaintances by convenience.' We gave each other nicknames but that's about it. We sit at lunch together but we don't talk. All we have in common is that we have no friends. That was why it was surprising when Itey came up to our spot by the vending machines and did the unthinkable.

"Hey."

He spoke to us.

It was a strange phenomenon. Ridiculously strange and I felt like that one word was going to change everything for the better. That was even stranger because I am a very 'half-empty' type of guy. But I could almost sense a change in the wind. In a manner of speaking since there wasn't even a breeze today.

And I was right but that's coming later. Today, I just asked Itey why he was talking. Not initiating conversation but talking period because, up until that one word, I thought he was either mute or unable to grasp the English language.

He shrugged. "It's always too quiet here."

"It's true," Swifty put in. "I always feel like I'm at a funeral when I'm here."

It was out in the open now. A great big Easter basket of truth had plopped itself into the center of our group. Jelly beans with the word 'dorks' written on it in bold print. Chocolate bunnies who scolded us. Okay, I think I was just hungry.

Snoddy was chewing gum, blowing a bubble. The pink sugar stretched, brushing the tip of his nose. When it popped, it was like a cosmic Prince Phillip kissing us collectively and waking us up.

"I can't speak a word of Spanish." I don't know why I said it but it seemed to do something because we spent the next twenty minutes discussing our heritages.

By the end of lunch, though, we thoroughly exhausted the topic and were back where we started. But it was different, still. We knew things now. Jake was from London (boy had never talked so we couldn't catch the accent) while Snoddy was as Irish as a leprechaun. Pie is, well actually, Pie didn't say anything. Just listened and gave noncommittal nods of his head. But there was the ethnic medley of Swifty, me and Itey. Still, we had nothing left to talk about.

Then, salvation! Cutting through the air like a hummingbird or…something less fruity, the bell rang.

"Literally saved by the bell," Jake chuckled.

And so we went our separate ways feeling different. Not better, but different.

You're probably wondering where the locker room comes in but that too comes later.

--

**Swifty's POV**

I have spent roughly one third of my life in the water. I love it. Born in Frisco, spent nearly every day leaving the Bay City to go to the sound and swim despite the pollution. I feel much more at home in the water than I do one land. That is why I can't figure out how I was ever on the track team. I'm a complete spaz and I hate to run. Even walking at a leisurely pace is too much most of the time.

But I love it when it's swim season. I'm still forgotten but I'm in the water and so it doesn't matter. I just get really into it. And I'm good. At our last meet, Nick Meyers (one on the high end of the popularity spectrum with the IQ of an avocado) told me I was awesome. Awesome. But out of the water, I disappear so today after practice, I nearly had a coronary when I heard someone call my name.

"Hey, Swifty."

Bumlets sat on the bleachers amidst the kickboards and lane dividers. I was dripping wet and in a Speedo and would have felt self-conscious if I wasn't so shocked.

"What are you doing here?"

"I hear chlorine clears your pores."

I laughed. "No, really. Why are you here?"

Bumlets shrugged. "Nothing better to do. Martinez gave me detention again so I was without a ride. Plus, I hear that these locker rooms are worse than the other ones and I'd like to investigate that."

He got down off of the bleachers and together we went into the locker room. I felt strange because I'm used to walking around by myself. I haven't had a friend since I moved here. Not that Bumlets is really my friend, I mean it completely theoretically.

In the locker room, the rumors are true, it's worse. Take the regular locker room and add seventeen varieties of algae on the walls and, I swear, aquatic life living in the puddles and you have the place where I spend most of my time.

After I shower, I have to wait until it's free, I stood in front of my locker. Bumlets was claiming to wait for me outside so I figured I should hurry. Nick Meyers and Louie Ballat were chatting it up in front of my locker about some party they went to last weekend. I could catch snatches of the words 'so wasted' and 'can't believe it' and an overuse of the word 'dude.' I could say something but they wouldn't hear me. Eventually they decided that it wasn't wise to stand for so long in only their towels and dispersed to get changed. I simply threw my clothes on and left.

"You really do take your sweet time everywhere," Bumlets said the moment I was out.

"There was a roadblock," I explained and then changed my tune. "Why'd you wait for me?"

"I told you. Martinez, detention."

"But why? You could have just waited at the bus stop."

Bumlets paused and rushed a hand through his hair. I felt immediately envious. His hair is like an 'after' shot from a Head & Shoulders commercial. I tugged self-consciously on my damp, brown locks.

"I don't know," he conceded. "I guess it's because we kind of bonded today."

"We did, didn't we?"

We silently left the warm humidity of the pool and down the gravel walk to the front of the school. It wasn't cold but considering where we had just come from and add in my damp hair, I was shivering.

"Maybe we should do that more often," I opined.

"Do what?"

"Talk and all that. I mean, who else are we going to talk to?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. But it sounds alright, I guess."

"There's enough of us for a legitimate group."

Bumlets nodded again and we found ourselves at the bus stop. I knew I had to catch a bus but I wasn't entirely sure about him.

"You take the bus?" he asked me.

"Yeah."

"Me too."

That was how we ended up riding home together. What was strange is that, on our way, I found myself unable to shut up. We talked everything: music, movies, TV, parents, families, sports, video games, pie, cake, animals. I was talking so much that I didn't even realize that we had come to his stop.

Bumlets got up to go, gave me a 'catch you later' and headed to the front. As he turned to go down the stairs, he gave me a smile.

And, for some reason, my stomach flipped.

--

**Jake's POV**

My name is Jake. Alright, it really isn't but that's what everyone calls me. It's because of those blasted _Animorphs_ books. I'm obsessed. My actual name is Darren Duncan so you can see why I prefer Jake. People just started calling me Jake because I'm probably the only kid in high school who still reads them. Well, I like the books and I missed out on them in my childhood.

But that's beside the point. It's not like anyone really makes fun of me for it. They just don't talk to me. Some girls come skirting by because they like my accent but that's about it. When I stopped paying them mind, they ignored me too.

It's not my fault; I'm happily ensconced in a relationship, thank you very much. Shawnee Flannery. I met him the first day I moved here and we've been going out pretty much since then. He just gets me, strange as that. And he buys me the books I'm missing and, for that, I love him.

Snoddy and I started sitting with the other forgotten ones because we really didn't want to come out to the entire school and there's safety in anonymity. However, sometimes I wish it was just me and him or that we lived in a more accepting society where I could indulge in filthy public displays of affection with him. But I can't.

Life also deals me an unfair card due to the fact that I have gym. I hate gym. I'm alright at sports but, then again, I'm alright in everything. Alright in school, alright at sports, etc. Not good but not bad. Average. I blend in. It would be nice if Snoddy were in my period because seeing him in running shorts would _not_ be a bad thing but he already took gym.

Fortunately, the Big Buddha smiled beatifically (I assume) down on me today for it's raining and we can't go outside. But even that is bittersweet because the gym is being fumigated and the health classroom has asbestos in the walls. Thus, we're confined to the locker room.

Remember that bit in _The Goonies_ where they're under the country club and all of the pipes are going off and everyone's getting soaked? Well, that is what being in the locker room reminds me of. Don't ask me why but it does. Everyone's talking up a storm except for me.

Until I noticed another wallflower in the room. Another huddled mass of flesh sitting by himself in a particularly dark, damp corner. I spot a weird hat and a sweater vest. I remember seeing one person in our group at lunch with them. It's Pie!

Halleluiah! I didn't know if our lunchtime bonding moved into the real world but I suppose that it was time to find out.

I carefully made my way across the room to where he sat and cleared my throat. It was too dry. Strange considering the moisture level of where I was currently. I coughed and tried again.

"Hey."

That was my grand introduction.

Pie was sitting on the floor (gag me) with his knees drawn up to his chest. I figured that he didn't see me. He looked kind of spacey but, then again, he always did. I haven't known him to ever utter a word. And everyone thought that _Itey_ was mute.

I waited for a bit and just when I was about to say 'sod it' and cut class to find Snoddy, I got an answer.

"Hey, back."

Victory! "What are you doing?"

"I dunno. Sitting." Pie gave me a look. "Why?"

Because I'm Jake and I want to stalk you. Not true, of course, but it would have been a hell of a conversation starter. I just smiled at him in what I hoped was a friendly manner.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked, against my better judgment. I wanted to graduate this bloody school free of the plague, thank you very much.

"I don't care. Free country."

I was somewhat relieved. Even though I had _The Pretender_ in my backpack all ready for me to read (truth be told, Tobias is my favorite character and not actually Jake), I decided to sit and talk to Pie. I mean, I had already committed to it anyway.

I picked a less-moldy spot on the floor (no easy feat) and plopped down.

"Hey, I like your hat," I said, trying to make conversation.

"What about it?"

Well, besides the fact that it's vomit orange and shit brown, has three tassels and appeared to be eating his head, nothing at all! Actually, I had to give him something. I'd never wear such an atrocious thing but Pie really didn't seem to care.

"It's nice."

"Sure."

I was surprised that he saw through my flimsy façade. I mean, he was completely zonked out all of the time, it appeared. We hung out for a while. Occasionally, Pie would look up at me, surprised. Surprised that I was sitting there, surprised that I was talking to him, surprised that I was British. I couldn't tell you which.

"How come you never talk?" I queried.

"Nothing to say," he replied.

"You're talking to me."

A slow smile appeared on his face. "Got me. I dunno. I guess it's because there really isn't anyone to talk to. Especially here. I don't want to talk to Jack or Spot or any of them who only care about who's banging who and who got tossed last night."

Quite a speech for a guy I had never known to speak more than four words in succession.

"People think I'm just a loser," Pie continued. "But I had no friends by choice. Right now, I'm hanging out with the people I want to hang out with."

I realized that he was including me in these 'people.'

"Us? I wouldn't exactly call a conversation at lunch hanging out," I pointed out.

"It's a start," he said sagely.

And I realized another thing. He got it. The stoner got it. I gave Pie a significant look. His face was puffed out a little, maybe from unshed tears? I shouldn't go around making assumptions but it gave me some questions. Yesterday, when we were talking about our families, he hadn't said a word. Confusing and intriguing. Looking at him, he looked a bit like an owl. A drugged out owl.

"You're an enigma." I laughed.

Pie smiled again. "I suppose so. But I think I now have syphilis."

We both laughed and stood. Per usual, no one was paying attention to us. Jack and Spot actually were in a 'who was banging who' conversation and that made me laugh again.

Pie turned to me and fiddled with his sweater vest. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to freak?"

I shrugged. "Go right ahead. I have a high threshold for strange."

He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I'm gay."

And I nearly laughed again. Not because of what he told me but because I had thought that Snoddy and me were being blatantly obvious when no one in our screwed little group had even caught on to our coupledom. If he had known, he would have told me without the preface about me promising not to freak.

I held a hand up. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks, Jake."

"No problem."

The bell rang and Pie went for this things. The others whir to life and grab their own belongings and I stood there, remembering my insinuations. Where did I think I was? _EastEnders_? Pie probably had a normal life and I was imagining things.

Stick to alien books, Duncan.


	2. If you really want to be my friend

**Snoddy's POV**

Did you know that celery has negative calories? It takes more calories to eat celery than are actually in it! How amazing is that?

Okay, no, I'm not obsessed with my weight. I'm just a fount of useless information. Maybe it's because I'm Irish and the _Guinness Book of World Records_ reminds me of booze. Or it could be due to the fact that I once had nothing better to do with my time except watch old reruns of _Ripley's Believe It or Not_.

That is, until Jake came here at the beginning of the year. I love Jake. I haven't exactly been able to bring myself to tell him yet but I am truly head over heels in love with him. The problem is that I'm afraid that if I tell him that I love him, he'll think I'm going too fast or—dare I say it?—he doesn't love me back. It's really quite tragic.

But then there are times, like when I give him another book he's missing, that I feel like he loves me too. Or today. I was walking to the principal's office because there was a problem with my Timetable. Here's the thing about the principal's office: it's in a gross, dark hallway with all of these little niches in the walls.

So you can imagine my terror when someone reaches out from one of the niches and pulls me in. But then I saw who it was.

"Jake?"

He put a finger to his lips and pulled me close to him. His hands inched up my shirt and his lips found mine in the dark. I lost myself, really. His tongue skittered around the roof of my mouth; his hands were firmly planted under my shirt. I felt myself lean into him and I moaned to deepen the kiss. I reached for his shirt and hooked my fingers into the fabric.

Jake brought that lovely mouth away from mine and smiled in the gloom. "You've no idea how much I want to do that in public."

I smiled at him and he kissed me once more. It wasn't until I found myself being pushed to the floor that I realized that I still had to go to the principal's office and having sex in a public venue, especially at school and especially at _this_ school, was not a wise idea.

"Jakey, I have to go," I whispered against his lips.

And he seemed really reluctant to let me up but he did and I went to get my third period straightened out.

--

**Itey's POV**

Shelving books in the library is pure bliss. Actually, that's an utter lie. I hate it. But it eats up time. I have copious free time because of the lack of this little thing called a life. But the more I volunteer here, the more volunteer hours I get under my belt when I have to apply for scholarships. Granted, putting Tom Clancy where he's supposed to go on a shelf isn't up to par with, say, feeding the homeless but it was a start…or something.

The library at JPHS has possibly never been dusted. The shelves are covered in a good two inches of dust and there is a veritable circus of silverfish here. Dust so old that it's brown. Sometimes it amazes me at how disgusting our school is.

"Look! It's Davey's old haunts!"

Cue the Populars. Damn, and I was hoping I could shelve in peace. It was a day when Heidi Anderson didn't shelve. She was a future librarian in training. She had everything: requisite bun, long and unflattering skirt, flats, glasses on a chain and stockings. A forty-year-old woman in the body of a sixteen-year-old girl. I suppose that I should be kind about it but she likes me and that's not cool. I mean, it's flattering but no thanks. To be perfectly honest, I haven't really been interested in girls since…ever. And I'm not sure why.

But I digress. I was hoping to hurry up and get out of here but the Populars had come swaggering in. All of them. I know I shouldn't hate them or whatever but I just didn't like them. They have everything, I have nothing. Therefore, I hate them. What can I say? I'm a teenager.

The rather large group stood at the door of the library. Dust-infused light danced above their heads. I surveyed them.

Nick Meyers and Louie Ballat were laughing over something stupid. Louie was wearing one of those ugly, billed knit caps while Nick wore a flimsy wife beater but might as well have been not in a shirt at all. Lucky Nick: gorgeous, good at sports, whole package. Luckily, he has the intelligence of one of the many silverfish in here so I don't feel _too_ jealous.

"Yo!" It appeared that Jack—probably fresh from his latest syphilis vaccination—was addressing me.

I was too busy staring enviously at Nick's body (I've seen him at lunch; all he eats is junk food and never works out—from what I've heard from the amount he parties—and he has that body) to notice Jack was speaking to me until Spot hit me rather rudely with the stick of his Tootsie Pop.

"I'm sorry," I said earnestly. "What do you guys need?"

"Books," Spot said bluntly.

No, really?

"What kind of books?" I smiled brightly.

"Reference books." David stepped forward and smiled. Maybe it was because he used to have no friends either but I felt my smile become genuine.

"We're looking for stuff on the Franco-Prussian War."

That voice. That voice was like a chorus of angels. It was lyrical, pretty. Lilting and deep and just…beautiful.

I looked to find out who it was. Nick and Louie were laughing over anatomy books and I already knew their voices (plus, if it were them, 'Franco-Prussian' would have been mispronounced and the word 'dude' would have been thrown in). I knew it wasn't Spot. Not accented so it wasn't Anthony. The second-string Populars were meandering near the door. Not fit enough to be up with Jack and Spot (seriously, his name was Spot) and all them so they just hung around, getting by on the fact that they were friends with them.

And there he was.

He was tall and gorgeous. But strangely gorgeous. His eyebrows were thick and there was a thatch of dark, dark hair on his head. Thick and dense and curling slightly over his ears. His eyes were a lovely shade of blue. His teeth almost looked too big for his mouth but it worked for him. I was struck deaf, dumb, blind and mute. I was Helen Keller! Okay, that was bad but I had no time to be politically correct. I had never noticed how good looking Aurel Bogdan was. I had always just seen him with the Populars, blending in. He was…wow.

I had never had my breath taken away, least of all by a guy.

_Come on, Spinelli, think! Say something! Say anything!_

"I don't handle reference. It's upstairs."

_Okay…something better than that._

He nodded a little. "Cool, cool. Thanks…"

_Giuseppe Spinelli. I've been in your class since second grade. I sit behind you in bio._

"Itey."

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

But he smiled, showing those gorgeous teeth. "Alright. Thanks, Itey."

Jack and them swaggered off, Louie and Nick still pointing at pictures in the anatomy book and laughing their brainless heads off. But Aurel was still in front of me.

"Yo, Snitch. Let's roll!" Spot called over his shoulder.

Aurel turned and followed them. I found myself turning my head and watching him go.

Okay, so maybe I didn't hate the Populars _too_ much.

--

**Pie's POV**

Sometimes I just want to kill everyone. No, not everyone…the people who hurt me. I came out to my friends at the end of freshmen year. Well, came out is the operative word. I was found literally in the closet with a guy by my friends: the Populars. Things didn't go too well. People were confused and somehow, out of that confusion, punches started being thrown. One of those punches assisted me down a flight of stairs.

The injuries weren't that bad, I just broke my arm. Still, I was hurt way more than that. I became Forgotten. It's better than being mercilessly bashed all of the time but it still hurts. Mainly because the guy, the one I was with, he still got to keep his Popular status. I was the only one ostracized.

So I'd just want to kill them, kill all of the Populars. Burn them. Wreck them. But especially him, the one who I was with.

Who am I kidding? I couldn't do that. I could never kill a human being. But I've thought it about it plenty. That's why I never talk. I plot. But the others, they're alright. I wouldn't mind actually being friends with them. Plus, Jake didn't freak out as I had thought and the others seemed pretty open too. Not like I'm about to be all open and touchy with them but still, it's nice to have an option.

Really, I can't handle the friends thing anymore. Getting thrown down a flight of stairs can do that to a person. I'm not entirely sure why I sit with them other than the fact that they're all pretty cute. Although it was nice seeing them finally talk. And talking to Jake yesterday was nice. I could see us eventually becoming friends. Or something else. I don't know. He has a very nice voice. But I'm just a sucker for accents. I admit, I can be stereotypical.

"Nice hat today, man." Jake. I was waiting for the bus and he and Snoddy just came up to me. It's actually quite pleasant.

Although I'm fairly certain he's joking about the hat. My hats are incredibly weird. Plus, I've paired it with a scarf and sweater vest. Not exactly a beacon of fashion. But he's making an effort.

"Thanks," I said shortly.

They sat next to me.

"Where do you live?" Snoddy asked, slipping his hand into Jake's.

I was taken back. For one, they're a couple (I, he of the ever observantness, missed that!) and two…Jake was taken. Not that I fully committed myself to a crush of course, that's silly. I can't have feelings for him and that's not because I still have feelings for closet boy. No way.

It could be I missed that because I'm stoned all the time. Truth be told, it's not marijuana I like; it's the prescription pills. At the Allerdyce household, there is never an absence of pills to be had. But still, you'd think I would have noticed _something_. Note to self: don't stare at the ground so much.

"Not far," I answered. "I live in Queens."

"Then why do you go here?" Snoddy queried.

"Because it's better than the school there."

"Bumlets goes here too," Jake put in for my defense. "And he lives in Brooklyn. Same with Spot."

Snoddy frowned. "How do you know that _gourier_ lives in Brooklyn?"

Jake laughed. "Are you serious, luv? His clothes always have the word BROOKLYN across it in huge letters. Clothes, might I add, that are about seven sizes too big."

"He should really look in the mirror," Snoddy put in. "He's white. In fact, I think he's as Irish as I am."

I had to laugh. I think I had laughed more today than I have at any time since the stair incident.

It immediately died in my throat, though, once I saw who's coming out of the gates surrounding our school. A small throng of the first-string Populars: Spot, Jack, David, Anthony, Nick and Louie. But I don't care about most of them. Just one. Just Nick with his sunshine smile and those big brown eyes. Nick who I told myself repeatedly that I didn't still care for.

Nick who I was caught in the closet with.

--

**Swifty's POV**

It still surprised me to see Bumlets waiting for me after swim practice today. Sure, we were all talking more at lunch and that little episode on the bus but I didn't expect it to become a whole thing.

"Hey."

This time I was already dressed and mostly dry.

"Hey, back," he replied. "So, this is how the sports thing is done?"

I nodded. "Pretty much. You know, with your locker room obsession, I'm surprised you're not on a team."

Bumlets laughed and tossed back that perfect mass of hair. I once again tugged on my own hair and sighed.

"Nah, too many naked guys for my taste," he replied before noticing my tugging. "If you want to do something with your hair, I can help."

I let up and put my hands hastily behind my back like a little kid caught with something he wasn't supposed to have.

"It's alright," Bumlets said. "Come on to my place."

Had our friendship gotten to that stage yet? Probably not. Oh, fuck it.

"Sure."

We were on our way out of the pool area when we bumped into Itey leaving the library. His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing rather heavily. Couldn't blame him. The library was so dusty, I swear I saw some tumbleweeds go by when I was in there researching for my biology report.

"Hey," he said when he spotted us. "What's happening?"

"We're going to my house," Bumlets replied. "Wanna come with?"

He shrugged. "Sure. I'll just call my mom from there I guess."

Bumlets laughed at the notion of Itey calling his mother and the three of us set forward. We passed through the chain link fence and the metal detectors to get to the bus stop and that was when I figured that the universe really wanted us to be friends.

Snoddy, Pie and Jake were sitting on the bus stop bench. There was the needed group of Populars there but they didn't notice us as they piled into Jack's car. Because those who are Popular don't do anything as gauche as, say, riding a bus.

"We're going to my house," Bumlets explained. "To do something about Swifty's hair. Wanna come?"

"Sounds fun," Snoddy said, gripping Jake's hand.

"Indeed, it does. We're in."

I noticed that they were holding hands and felt…strange about it. Not pissed, not angry but strange.

Pie glanced up at us and nodded. His face was puffy and I wondered what the deal was. But I figured it wasn't my place to ask.

When the bus got here, we all got on to head towards the subway station to take us to Brooklyn. As it rolled away from our school, Bumlets grinned at me.

"What?"

"Swifty…what are your opinions on hot pink?"


	3. Another goodbye to another good friend

**Bumlet's POV**

There is something truly wonderful about hair dye. Seriously, if my mother wouldn't scalp me, my hair would change colors monthly. So, theoretically, I suppose you could say that I was living vicariously through Swifty.

I went into my room to get my comb, arms laden with clear plastic gloves, a packet of bleach and hair selections in 'strawberry fields', 'ghoulish grape' and 'blueberry hills'.

"This hair dye is making me hungry," Snoddy remarked upon seeing the titles.

I laughed and then noticed, for once, he and Jake weren't together. In fact, Jake was slumped on the floor looking mopey.

"What's wrong with your boyfriend?"

Snoddy shrugged. "He started getting all emo on the bus ride here."

"I remembered that I have a test tomorrow on the Civil War and I don't know shite about it."

I offered him a sympathetic look because I figured that no one else would; Swifty was waiting for me in the bathroom—did that sound dirty to anyone else?—while Pie was Pie and Itey was in he kitchen calling his mother.

"I am considering holing up in the Empire State Building with a gun and shooting whomever I see. Isn't that what they do in New York?"

"Yes," I said. "Every citizen is guaranteed one day up in a watch tower, blowing up hapless pedestrians. It's in our Constitution."

"Doesn't surprise me. Bloodthirsty Colonials."

Pie poked his head—in that revolting, green knit cap—up and looked directly at Jake.

"All of Seitz's tests are the same. One is 'E', two is 'K'…"

Jake, Snoddy and I exchanged a triumvirate of surprised looks.

"So," I said. "You _can_ talk."

Pie shrugged and lowered his head.

"Thanks, mate," Jake said with a grin. "When I'm sniping people, I'll spare you."

Pie's mouth twisted in what could have been a smile. Remembering my reason for being there, I grabbed my comb, told them to make themselves at home and went to do Swifty's hair.

I found him sitting almost daintily on the toilet, a look of anxiety on his face. I took in his outfit and sighed.

"You don't mind if I get bleach on your shirt, do you?"

"Yes! Darren Hayes _signed_ it!"

I put my clutch on the counter and got a grubby, old towel out of the linen closet.

"Here." I tossed it to him. "Shirt off, towel on."

Blank look. I could almost hear the crickets in his head.

"Take off your precious Savage Garden shirt and wrap this around your shoulders," I clarified.

He obliged and my heart leapt into my throat. His chest was defined and strong-looking and made my stomach twist in a way that wasn't at all familiar or explainable. I hadn't been paying attention at the pool but, wow, he had a nice body…objectively speaking of course.

"Okay, I take it back. Sports don't seem like such a bad idea."

Swifty laughed and slipped the towel around his shoulders.

"Let's get down to business!" he sang. "To defeat…the Huns!"

I snorted in laughter. "You're so Asian."

--

**Swifty's POV**

Define yellow. I looked yellow up in a thesaurus and got: buttery, golden, flaxen, Asian (I really did, what the hell?) fair, blonde and warm. While they're all good words, none can describe my hair. My hair is _yellow_.

I refused all the colors Bumlets forced on me and ended up just getting bleached. But it ended up being far worse. It was solid yellow. So blonde it was white. To add insult to injury, Bumlets scooped up some hair goop up from somewhere secreted in his bathroom cabinets, and made the front stick up and back so I looked not unlike a rooster.

I looked at his hair with renewed jealousy. He looked like a Disney hero: Aladdin or Prince Eric.

"You know, I like it."

"Of course you do. It's not _your_ hair."

Bumlets tossed his head back in laughter.

"My scalp's burning," I remarked dourly.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "It'll look better when the roots grow in."

"Great," I deadpanned. "But until then, do you have a hat?"

"No, but I'm sure that Pie does."

"…On second thought, my hair's not that bad."

"That's the spirit, Ben!"

I put my shirt back on and followed Bumlets back into my room, feeling slightly above miserable.

Itey was doing his homework, bent over his book and scribbling feverishly. Pie looked like he hadn't moved since we got here while Jake and Snoddy snuggled on the floor, looking like an advertisement for true love. Then Itey looked up.

"Holy Sassy molassy!" he exclaimed before dissolving into incoherent Italian.

"'Sassy molassy'?" Jake queried. "What?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Itey's choice of words veered attention away from the glowing sun sitting atop my head.

"I love how you people say 'what,'" Bumlets remarked.

Jake cocked a brow. "You people? You mean the English?"

"Sure."

"Well, we've been around longer."

"Not true. And we saved your ass in World War II."

"So? We gave you The Beatles and The Stones and pretty much every band with merit in the sixties."

"_Touché_," he remarked. "Okay, Brits win. But we, at least, got The Doors."

They laughed and I noticed that Bumlets considered himself American and not Argentinean. Perhaps for the best since he claimed to not be able to speak a word of Spanish.

I was sitting down when Pie finally lifted his head and blinked at me a few times. He looked distressed, shaking and whatnot.

"Look at him!"

And I decided it's never good when Pie manages to speak.

--

**Itey's POV**

I just wrote Aurel Bogdan's name over one hundred times in my notebook. It took about a half hour and then it took another half hour to black them out. It wasn't like I had a crush. One, he was a boy. Two, he was a Popular!

But he was so pretty…for a guy. And he had a cool name without it being weird. Besides guys don't like guys. Not like I would know. It's not like I had ever liked anyone, male for female. I was starting to believe I was an asexual. Maybe I was. Maybe I was just appreciative of a Popular.

God, I feel like Molly Ringwald…but not in that way.

"What's mitosis?"

I was jolted from my incongruous thoughts to find myself in second period. Biology. With Aurel.

"Itey?"

He remembered my name…well, the one I told him. And he was talking to me.

"What?" I shook my head. "Mitosis is dividing cells, uh, cells dividing."

He smiled with those stellar teeth.

"Thanks. Hey, you're European, right?"

"Yeah, Italian."

"Romanian."

I nodded and maybe it was because talking to him emboldened me because that would be the _only_ explanation.

"How come you're talking to me?" I immediately regretted asking for it.

But Aurel laughed. "Because I suck at bio and you seem to know all of the answers."

I snorted a laugh of my own. "Oh. You don't care that I'm beneath you?"

"Why should social standing deem who I can and can't talk to?" he asked, quirking one of those wonderfully thick eyebrows.

"It's high school."

He laughed again. I liked his laugh. No, I didn't have a crush.

"So—" He was cut off by our fascist, anti-Christ bio teacher, Mr. Wiesel.

"Mr. Bogdan, Mr. Spinelli." He always pronounced my name like 'Spin-ah-lee'. "What, pray tell, is more riveting than homeostasis?"

Everything.

"Nothing," I said quietly.

Wiesel still put us on detention. Aurel smiled at me. My heart pounded. I didn't have a crush.

In detention, we're not alone. Bumlets was put on detention by Ms. Martinez again for talking back and Jack 'gonorrhea' Kelly for cutting class.

"Aye, Snitch!" Jack called in some sort of white, homeboy Ebonics.

He went and sat next to his leader and I took a seat next to Bumlets.

"Martinez doesn't get that I'm not Spanish," he explained before my butt even finished coming in contact with the seat. "But I point that out and I get put on detention."

I nodded and fell quiet. I had never had detention before but I didn't mind the circumstances. Wiesel was barely in the room so we mostly talked. Or, rather, Jack and Aurel talked and Bumlets and I talked. Until ten minutes before we were to leave when he turned those lamp-like blue eyes at me and smiled with those amazing teeth.

"Itey." I blushed at the mention of my name. "You party?"

No.

"I guess."

"Jack's having a jammer. Wanna come?"

I had no idea what to say and was incredibly thankful for Bumlets.

"When is it?"

"Friday." Aurel was looking directly at me.

A party. A fun, social experience. And Jack's parties were purportedly legendary. Plus, Aurel would be there and the other would probably come. And Aurel would be there. And I've never been to a party before. And Aurel would be there.

"Sure, Aurel," I said in a voice I hoped didn't sound _too_ excited and loving the sound of his name on my tongue.

"Call me Snitch."

My heart skipped a beat. I don't have a crush!

--

**Jake's POV**

I used to be a shagger. I'd twist boys around my fingers back home. No one really knows. But the entire scene was utterly horrendous in hindsight.

I used to have horrible taste. Really horrible taste. Every guy I've been with has been just like the rest I've known my whole life. Like, the one before I moved here. I screwed him longer than the others—two weeks to be exact. He broke up with me shortly before I moved. Saved me the trouble. He was a lousy fuck and his voice was like a dentist's drill slowly grinding and skewering its way into my eardrums: "do you love me?" "What's on your mind?" "How come we never go anywhere?" and other shit like that.

Once again…like every other guy I'd been with back home. When I'd chase guys, there's a thrill. There's a mystery. They could be anything: sweet enough to give you a cavity, anal like Monica from _Friends_ or cool.

But they never are. They're just pecs and dicks. It wasn't even a thrill anymore to get one into bed. Now they start thinking that it's going to be forever but I'm already bored and moving onto the next one.

But when I bang one more than once, they're the only thing in the world. When he's still mysterious, I'm all his but then I'd get disappointed and move on.

Until now.

I haven't even slept with Snoddy yet and I know that he's the best thing in the world that could ever have happened to me.

His narrow face, those expressive, gray-green eyes. His wide smile. The mocking tilt of his head as he slowly dragged his wrist under his nose. It had to be love. The real sort of love.

I was thinking this as we waited for the bus to escort us to our respective homes. Pie was with us but I realized that when Pie is with you, he's never really _with_ you. He's just kind of there, soaking everything in. I found myself remembering my time in the locker room with him and how he actually chatted me up.

It was strange considering his usual, catatonic state. Snoddy wasn't saying much either. He was dozing from a hard day in school—he wasn't that good in the academic department—his head resting lightly on my shoulder while I fought the urge to reach up and stroke his ginger hair.

Just as I was entertaining the notion to get Pie to talk again, I was cut off by someone singing.

"Booze and pills and powders, you can choose your medicine!" Bumlets's voice wafted over to our bench at the bus stop from wherever he was. His voice certainly could carry. "Well, here's another good-bye to another good friend!"

I turned my head to find him striding towards with Itey trailing behind him, looking embarrassed by his loud singing.

"After all is said and done!" Bumlets continued, jiving over to us. "Gotta move while it's still fun."

He sat down on the concrete, resting his back against the seat of bench. His head was about even with my knees and I briefly toyed with the idea of jerking it to the side and hitting him but I figured that our relationship wasn't that far yet.

"Let me walk before they make me run!"

"Sorry," Itey apologized hastily.

Rather than plopping down on the dirty sidewalk like Bumlets, Pie scooted over noiselessly to allow the short, Italian boy a place to sit.

"He got a little wired after detention. He had a Rock Star energy drink. One of those big ones? He bought it off Jack Kelly, you see. After they invited us to the party."

His cheeks flushed momentarily at the mention of a party and it perked my interest.

"Jack Kelly acknowledged him?" I asked, incredulous. "Of course…there was money in it for him. And party?"

Itey nodded. "Yeah. He and Sni—Aurel Bogdan invited us to a party tomorrow."

I was surprised. And, admittedly, a little skeptical. I didn't know much about American cinema (modern, anyway) but I knew that the popular kids suddenly taking interest in the unpopular kids meant one thing: hog's blood and lots of it.

Of course, it wasn't like they were our tormenters. They were our ignore…ers? Not like they had anything against us.

Besides, I haven't been to a party since I moved here. It could be fun.

"We're in," I answered for the three of us.

Pie made a distressed face and tugged on the tassels hanging from his bile yellow cap nervously.

Bumlets was twitching against my knees and I couldn't help but nudge him with my knee.

"You're okay, yeah?"

He raised his immaculately carved face framed by that Disney hair up to me, catching me by surprise. He was pretty gorgeous. Or would be if he hadn't opened his mouth.

"Watched the taillights fading, there ain't a dry eye in the hooooouse!"

Evidently not.


End file.
